


i don't wanna lose your love tonight

by theredhoodie



Category: 12 Monkeys (TV)
Genre: Basically what happens between unicorn creation and that last finale scene, Canon Compliant, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship mixed with relationship so you could say, Jennifer is basically a cradle robber but it's fine, Post-Canon, that's all I got for you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredhoodie/pseuds/theredhoodie
Summary: Jennifer wakes up in 2017 with a swirl of dreams and memories in her head and a world that isn't falling apart. Following her instincts, her dreams, her life of deja vu, she decides that if time owes Cole and Cassie, it owes her too.
Relationships: Deacon/Jennifer Goines
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	1. Early 2018 ((21::32))

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> So this is born out of me wanting to write how we got to time-reset up to Jennifer at Deacon's bar in the finale. It's "canon compliant" in the sense that it follows the characters and their journeys and what little breadcrumbs we were given about how their reset timeline would work.
> 
> It's also an excuse for me to write Jennifer as kind of a cradle robber since I'm using the original timeline for the character's ages. I've worked out how old Deacon would have been in that timeline (born in 1996, he's a gen z! lol) and marked the ages in the chapter titles because of how much work I put into it. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks to the like 3 people who will read this. Hope you like it! :D
> 
>  **EDIT 2/13/21:** I've changed the title to reflect the song by The Outfield, which is pretty much now the theme song for this fic. It was formerly **blink and you miss it**.

When Jennifer woke up, her mind a jumble of bits and pieces, and found that she wasn’t, in fact, waking up in a mental institution in 2017, but her own bed, in her own house, she was confused. And then elated, though she wasn’t sure why. She shook off a memory--a nightmare even since she had never been in an institution; she’d been a tough kid to handle but with therapy a few choice drugs she was right as rain--and spent the morning dancing around to pop music and finally, finally settling down to eat a lunch involving avocados and toast and eggs.

She was Jennifer Goines, heiress, scientist, a little wacky but not to the extent of her mother--or her past and other selves. Because they were there, sharing her space, like old friends and strangers all at once. Some part of her knew that they had always been there, but they felt both new and ancient as her weeks moved by, lightning fast.

She met with her group of friends, did yoga, went rock-climbing, donned a white lab coat and continued with her project to bioengineer a real-life unicorn. Because what else was she supposed to do?

She woke up sometimes with dreams swirling around in her head that were so real, she wrote them down. Or drew them. Her pristine home was soon filled with piles of sketch pads, mostly empty but quickly filling up. Sometimes they were repeated images: places, symbols, people.

One whole notebook seemed to be filled with a single face: James Cole. But...he wasn’t anywhere else. No internet searches, or national databases found a single person by that name.

Of course, because he’d never existed.

There were other people too: Cassandra Railly, who Jennifer found easily, and Katarina Jones, who was, weirdly, Jennifer’s age. 

The new year slipped in and she woke up on January 1st with a pretty nasty hangover and a mind filled with a face. A face she knew, a face she’d lost many times over in many different ways, and found again too.

With a steaming mug of tea in hand, Jennifer pulled her laptop closer and hesitated before typing in a name that felt familiar but also not; she’d never heard it before, not as who she was now, in a world free of time travel and paradoxes.

There was a shocking amount of police reports connected to  _ Theodore William Deacon _ ; only a few where he was the one arrested. Most of them were in connection to his parents, his father specifically.

His mug shot was like setting off fireworks in her brain; he was... _ young _ . She’d forgotten that part of all this history in her brain. Timelines interwoven, many of them where she was younger than he was, and many where she was older...but now she was older again but not  _ old _ old. She had no grey hairs, very few aching bones, was in the prime of her life and all that.

But him? He was practically a kid. In January of 2018, he was only 21. Twenty-one! When she’d been nine, drowning in a bath by her mother’s hand, he hadn’t even been born yet. It was really fucking weird to think about.

Her brain fought with herself, superimposing this young, roundish faced Theodore Deacon with the one from her dreams, with the one that her fingers itched to sketch out and proceeded to do so all morning, with the search page up on her computer, set aside but not forgotten.

With charcoal smudged fingers, Jennifer roused herself out of a drawing stupor hours later, stomach rumbling, head pounding. After washing her hands, drinking water and making herself a bowl of cereal for lunch, she sat on the couch and flipped through the pages. It was ten or twenty drawings of the man from her memory-dreams. 

Eyes that looked cold to a probably a lot of people, but she somehow found the warmth underneath. The scraping scruff of a beard, black, white and grey (which was difficult to do in just black charcoal but  _ she _ knew). A hinted smile. A face with a new scar. A knife, the shape burned into her mind like an afterimage from a canister of film.

There were hints of the young Deacon in them too. Or perhaps bits of the old in the young.

Sitting there, eating and looking over all of it, she made up her mind. She was waiting for Cole, and she knew he would come, time just had to catch up. And Jennifer was ready for it, ready to reunite her friends. And if she could reunite Cole and Cassie, she should be able to find her friends too, right?

Didn’t time owe her that much? For all the pain and suffering and horrors she’d seen and lived through, it owed her a little bit, too.

Life caught up a little bit as the new year started rolling in. Her unicorn was underway, her father humoring her. He was on his way out anyway. Not that she wanted to be CEO exactly but she wouldn’t mind putting on the proverbial pants and ordering around a bunch of rich white men who once upon a time would have treated her like some kind of freakish crazy lady.

The thought was tempting, but she was also given enough freedom to use her portion of her mother’s money to do whatever she wanted with it.

So, when March came around, Jennifer sorted things out. She made up her mind. She put off a few lunch dates with her gaggle of friends and spent a while looking into newly bought locations around the city that could be used for a bar.

Because that’s what Deacon always said, right? If he wasn’t a futuristic murdering psychopath--Jennifer disputed those claims because he was far too soft and loving to be a psychopath--he would have gotten his brother away from their dad and started up a bar.

It took a week and a half, but finally, she found it. She hadn’t been looking for it, actually. She’d been on her way back to the lab, wearing sensible shoes and her hair pulled out of her face when she felt a strange tingle, like a lightbulb was going off through her whole body, telling her to pay attention.

She slowed down, curious, and glanced around. After all of her time living in whatever timelines and parallels before they fixed time itself, she knew better than to ignore her instincts. It took a bit of searching, but she found it:

It was dark inside, and a screen had been pulled over the main window facing the street but there it was. A newly decaled window with a surprisingly nice looking design claimed the place as  _ Brother’s Deacon _ , even though it didn’t look like it’d be ready to open for a while.

Which was probably because the front door was unlocked. It turned easily in her hand and she stepped in. She could have been anyone else...a robber perhaps, or a homeless person. Once upon a time, she’d been both.

The inside definitely had the skeleton of an establishment that could be a bar. It had tables and a few booths in the corner and quite a bit of renovation equipment hanging around. Power tools, piles of lumber of varying sizes. There were what appeared to be bits and pieces of what could one day be called a bar standing haphazardly in the middle of the room.

“Hello?” she called out, taking a few steps inside. The wooden floor creaked under her weight. She called out again, waiting a few beats before she decided she was being ridiculous and she should leave before she got a gun in the face for trespassing.

But no, that was an  _ old _ Deacon thing to do. Perhaps he’d be less trigger happy…

“Hey uh--” A voice said, coming out from behind a divider wall to the left. Her heart stupidly leapt, but it wasn’t Deacon. At last, not the one she was looking for. He looked like Deacon though, but he was shorter and his hair was longer and lighter. “Can I help you?”

Jennifer shook herself out of ogling him and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “You know you should really lock that thing. Anyone could walk in here.” It was her attempt at a little bit of a joke, but she wasn’t sure how it would go over, so she hastened on a smile and made a show of turning around slowly, taking the place in.

“The sign guys mustuv left it unlocked,” he said with a shrug. He pulled off grey work gloves and shoved them into his back pocket. “Can I help you?”

Now that she was here, she wasn’t really sure what to do. The plan went totally out the window, as if she hadn’t spent the past few months planning out this exact moment. She should have known better, of course, than to rely on herself like that.

“I’m...I’m looking for--”

“What the hell is going on out there?” The voice made her freeze. Because it was  _ his _ , even if it was a tiny bit boyish still, it was still  _ there _ .

“--Deacon,” she finished softly just as he came out of the same place as his brother, the hall behind the bar.

She thought perhaps that he would somehow magically be the age she knew him as, but no, he was still young. Even in the short time since the last mugshot she could find, he’d gotten a little older. His face was thinner, his stature was the same and Jennifer felt her chest squeeze with an ache for something she’d never, and yet always, had.

“That’s me,” he said, dusting off his hands and moving to stand next to his brother.

Jennifer shook herself out of her shock. “So does that make you Brother then?” she asked the younger of them.

He actually cracked a smile. “Nah. Eli...Deacon here just hates being a Theodore.” Eli extended his hand.

Jennifer shook it. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Jennifer.” Deacon didn’t shake her hand, but he did look down on her with curiosity. His eyes were just as intense as she remembered…like a wolf, but like a wolf that you’d invite into your home to eat your supper and potentially your grandma. A nice wolf.

But Deacon wasn't nice. Well he was, but he wasn’t good. 

“ _ They were good people, _ ” echoed through her mind in her own voice. 

“ _ But I’m not," _ he'd said with a shrug.

The brothers shared a look, one that Jenner had never had because one kid was more than enough for her mother’s fragile mind to handle. 

“Do you guys plan to open soon? Because I gotta say...the place is looking pretty rough.” To keep her eyes from overtaking her face in their intent to stare, she started meandering through the place. The air swirled with dust.

“That was the plan,” Deacon said, his voice following her. 

“He’s overly optimistic,” Eli commented.

Jennifer found that weird. The Deacon she knew, the one she’d never know again, wasn't optimistic at all. He was all about survival and seeing the worst in people. 

“We’ve got way too much work to do just the two of us on a stretched budget to open in three weeks.  _ Three weeks, D, _ ” Eli muttered. 

“That’s good,” Jennifer said, turning around to face them. “I mean...that’s bad but I’m here, so that’s good.”

The confusion on both their faces was almost comical. Jennifer stepped closer. 

“I’d like to help. I have money and I’d like to give it to you.”

“Lady, I don’t know who you are or how you found us, but people don’t just give out money to strangers for no reason. I’d ask if there’s a catch but it’s likely you’re just some nutjob off the street with two pennies to her name.” Deacon’s words stung a little, but she’d been called worse. 

“I could possibly be a nutjob but I do have money. I have millions, and I’d like to invest in your establishment.” She paused by a heavy section of the bartop. 

“Why?” Deacon asked.

This was the tricky part. She had never been able to smooth over this part of the conversation when she was planning all this in her head. On the one hand, she could say something that would definitely make them think that she was crazy, and on the other...well the same thing really, but it was a different kind of crazy.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I believe in psychics?” she said, going for the crazier of the two. “Because I do. Like, seeing the future, feeling vibes, all of that. And it led me here. And let’s be honest, it definitely looks like you could use an investor.”

“Who are you exactly?”

“Jennifer Goines.” She flashed a smile. “Markridge heiress, scientist, supporter of local businesses.” She pulled out a business card and handed it over. 

Deacon took it from her like it was a snake about to bite. “I’ve read about you,” he said after a beat, looking up from the card. And he  _ really _ looked at her then. “You’re loaded.”

“Uh...yeah, sure, whatever you want to call it. And I’m serious. I mean, I can have lawyers come over, draft up official contracty things, work out how much you’d think you’d need to get opened in...three weeks and stay open for the first year. The first year is crucial for any business.” The words tumbled out now, her plan rolling off her tongue like oil and water. “We’d be partners. You wouldn’t hold any shares in Markridge, obviously, but I’d help you.”

“Okay,” Deacon said slowly, warming up to the idea. Eli took the card from him and twirled it around, as if it would magically turn into all of those things: a hundred page contract and two of NYC’s best lawyers. “So you had some psychic tell you to come invest in us. I feel like I’ve heard this story before with Apple and Steve Jobs.”

“Probably,” Jennifer said, waving her hand as if to clear the air. “But how great would it be.” She stepped closer, almost touching them, and turned around so they were all facing the sad insides of  _ Brothers Deacon _ . “This place could be sparkling, filled with customers in April. Hired contractors can help with the most serious work, fix up your bar...I mean, it  _ is _ in a bunch of pieces like an Ikea set, and your walls will be lined with fancy liquor bottles and stuff.”

She’d already drawn it. The fixed bartop, the friendly faces, the liquor along the walls, the taps...she was there too, with Deacon. It was part of a future that could maybe happen, or a future that had already happened. Jennifer had stopped trying to make sense of things linearly. She found that it didn’t really matter when or how, but she relied on the  _ feeling _ behind it.

“That all sounds great,” Eli said with a grin. “I mean…shit, at this rate we’re gonna lose this place before we can even open the doors.”

“I dunno…” Deacon was suspicious. Jennifer was glad for it because it meant that the base of who he was was still  _ there _ . She couldn’t help but smile at the fact.

“I’m serious,” Jennifer pressed. “Like, super serious. I can hand you the money tomorrow. I just need to get some lawyers here. One for me, one for you so you don’t think I’m screwing you over.”

With a sigh, Deacon finally dropped the hand holding her business card. “What’s the catch?” He was very close to pinching the bridge of his nose, she could tell.

“Um...I mean, I would definitely be okay with free drinks for life.”

“How much do you drink?” he asked slowly.

“Not much to be honest. Messes with my meds sometimes.” There was that hand again, waving away threads and knots. “But I have a lot of friends who are more than willing to spend money on drinks and I’ll bring them here often.”

“D--c’mon man, what do we have to lose by just saying yes?” Eli asked, his voice hushed even though Jennifer was just a few feet away.

The next forty-three seconds were maybe the longest in Jennifer’s life, but then Deacon met her eyes and sighed.

“Fine,” he agreed.

Eli and Jennifer exchanged lightning watt smiles.

“Oh shit, wait a sec!” Eli dashed off, leaving Jennifer and Deacon standing face-to-face, nothing between them but time.

“If you’re fucking with us,” Deacon said, a hint of edge to his voice. It sent a chill of remembrance though her. “I don’t even want to see your friends here, no matter how much money they have to drop.”

“It’s not like that,” Jennifer insisted with her most sincere expression. “I truly want to help you.”

He studied her face and she wondered what he saw. There was no flicker of recognition, not like with Cassie when they’d both happened to be at the Emerson at the same time just a few weeks ago.

Jennifer felt drawn to him, like he was a blackhole and she was a hapless planet caught in his grasp, but she didn’t get too far before Eli reappeared.

“Okay, so I printed these yesterday. Coincidence? Maybe.” He pulled out a card with their fancy logo on it and their would-be hours. And a phone number to what she guessed was the black landline attached to the wall by the bar. He had a pen in his other hand and he turned it over, writing down another number on the back. “Here. That’s my cell, in case...I dunno, something happens.”

Deacon snatched it out of his hand before Jennifer could grab it. “Do you think it’s wise to give some strange lady your number?”

“She wouldn’t be the strangest,” Eli smirked. Deacon rolled his eyes and handed Jennifer the card.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Jennifer said, tucking it into her bag. “Around one? You’ll both need to be here, since you’re both on the lease.”

“How...how did you know that?” Deacon asked, immediately putting up those walls.

Jennifer gulped. “I mean, your bar’s name is  _ Brothers Deacon _ so I assumed...wait, are you even old enough to work in a bar? Are you even old enough to  _ drink _ ?”

Eli made a face that said he hated being asked that. “Not yet, but I can at least put the place together.”

Jennifer laughed, gripping the bag strap over her shoulder, needing to leave before she said or did something worse than she already had. “Good to know. I will be here tomorrow. One o’clock.”

The brothers gave her a strange, confused goodbye. Just before the door closed behind her, she heard Deacon say, “Don’t get your hopes up. Shit like this doesn’t just fall from the sky.”

He was very wrong. And yeah, okay, maybe she hadn’t literally fallen from the sky, but she would follow through with this.

oOo

“So why April 3rd?” Jennifer asked, as they three sat in one of the completed booths, drinks in hand, the lawyers having come and gone, papers signed and money to be exchanged with a few transfers. She sat alone on her side, Deacon and Eli on the other. Eli looked as if he were about to burst out of his seat from the thrill of it all. Deacon...he was bewildered, the reality of all this sinking in.

“It’s someone’s birthday,” Eli said, sliding his eyes over to Deacon.

Jennifer knew his birthday. She’d seen it, during her search to find him, but it had slipped away. She was never one to grovel at the feet of the weird modern tradition of celebrating a day you had no control over. She’d rather celebrate days that meant something.

Deacon took a swig of beer and shook his head. “This is wild. You know that right? People don’t just...hand over money like that.”

“Newsflash, kiddo, I just did,” she said with a wink and a click of her teeth. The act of which sent her into a weird deja vu spiral, dizzy headed for a few moments before she was able to come back to her senses. 

“Right...and all this because some psychic told you about us?” His eyes were steady on her. There wasn’t recognition there, but there wasn’t a cold hard wall either. There was gratitude amongst his slowly-breaking skepticism. Jennifer was looking forward to the day that his eyes turned to her with warmth behind them.

It was strange to miss something she’d never had, but miss it she did.

“You should be happy, excited even!” She evaded his question. “I’ve given you enough to support the bar for the first year, with that whole clause in there about helping during any economic hardships and you can open in time for your birthday. What more could you ask for?” She tipped her beer bottle to take a drink before she said anything too rambling.

He hesitated before a smile broke out and he nodded. “Okay, okay, you’re right. Thank you. Whatever your  _ psychic _ saw in this place, you have my--our thanks.”

Eli grinned at her and they clinked glasses. 

Jennifer matched their smiles. “To the start of something new.”


	2. Middle 2018 ((22::33))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More birthday arise and that word "friends" gets tossed around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT 2/13/21:** I've changed the title to reflect the song by The Outfield, which is pretty much now the theme song for this fic. It was formerly **blink and you miss it**.

There was no waiting. She showed up on April 3rd, for the grand opening night. But Jennifer didn’t come alone. She brought friends--Erica, Gabby and Willa--as promised, and they didn’t even bother her about bringing them to a place that wasn’t one of their usual haunts. They actually preferred it to the Emerson and followed her happily there.

Truth be told, she boosted the place on her social media platforms and had even popped in a few times in the weeks leading up to the opening to check on how things were going. The place got itself put together so quickly that she was often wrought with the deja vu feeling.

The first night was a success, with enough business to show promise in the future. It was big and loud and not really Jennifer’s thing, but she stayed long enough to get her first free drink and beam at Deacon across the bar. She even wished him a happy birthday even though she didn’t believe in that sort of thing.

The texts she sent both the brothers the following day were filled with probably too many emojis. Jennifer didn’t really care though, she was just happy that she’d found  _ someone _ . He wasn’t ruined by time--not that he had been ruined before, but perhaps he deserved to live a life that was softer than the one they’d all left behind. He definitely deserved not to die in 1491 by the hand and blade of a madwoman and her lackeys.

Work ramped up, as it did, and her unicorn plans were beginning to be rolled out after years of research. It was an ethical nightmare, but one she was happy to undertake the public blowback. How many little kids’ dreams would come true if they could see a real unicorn?

Jennifer did stop into the  _ Brother’s Deacon _ as often as she could, which turned out to be about every two weeks or so. Sometimes she partook in her legally binding free drink...sometimes she just sat at the bar and observed and talked to Deacon when he wasn’t busy.

She’d given them enough to hire staff--so there were a handful of bartenders; two at all times, to bring drinks out to the tables and one behind the bar. The younger brother wasn’t eighteen yet, but Jennifer often found him in their back office going through receipts and Eli was counting down the days until he could do some real work. Jennifer liked Eli; he was totally different from what she’d expected, and yet it made sense. Deacon took on  _ everything _ in the big virus apocalypse so his brother didn’t have to.

He did the same thing now, but it involved less killing of people.

Eli was kind hearted, but he had that streak of hurt that could turn to anger and the desire to protect, no matter the cost. She wondered how much of that was him imitating his brother, and how much was from the pesky “nurture” part of growing up that could help you or royally screw you over.

It didn’t really matter to Jennifer either way. She was just happy to know them.

Sometimes, she was the first customer through the doors. And sometimes she’d stay after closing even if she shouldn’t because of work.

One of those nights, a few days before the anticipation of her unicorn reveal, Jennifer stayed late. She had moved to a stool in the corner, leaning against the wall and sipping some soda, her night’s free drink having been devoured hours earlier and she couldn’t afford being hung over.

A few people were left, but they were draining their glasses and being ushered out by the secondary employee. Her name was Cece and she was thirty but didn’t look it, had a big personality and knew how to handle crowds. She was nice and had gotten used to Jennifer hanging around.

“How does it feel, three months in?” Jennifer asked as Deacon came around the counter with a spray bottle and cloth to clean the bartop. 

“Honest?”

She nodded.

“Surreal. I still can’t believe it’s real and not some big dream.” He kept his eyes down and scrubbed at a sticky spot.

Jennifer smiled softly at him. “Yeah, I know the feeling. And I’m...so, so happy for you.”

He moved on and looked at her quizzically. “You’re still a strange one, you know that? You don’t even know me.”

“Hey, I’m  _ trying _ to get to know you. And I’m a very empathetic person. Is it so hard to believe someone is happy for you?”

Deacon took a deep breath and stopped right by her. “Yeah, it is.”

Jennifer couldn’t help herself. She reached forward and squeezed his arm before she hopped off the stool so he could keep cleaning. “And Eli...he’s proud of you. And he’s got a mind for the business side of things. Which is good, because I don’t know if I’d trust you to run a business entirely.”

Deacon cracked a little bit of a smile. “And you say you know me.”

She shrugged and stepped away, moving over to the space on the wall where a faux jukebox stood. It was only a few inches thick, set into the wall, and it used digital music over records, but it still took a quarter and you could pick a song. Jennifer had tried to convince the brothers to boost it to 75 cents, but they all decided that people rarely carried cash anyway so getting one quarter was probably all they could hope for.

Jennifer had just that and she pushed it into the slot. Her eyes skimmed the songs and then she pushed the proper digits. The familiar beats and crooning vocals of Simple Minds’  _ Don’t You (Forget About Me) _ started playing.

Cece twisted the top deadbolt and turned off the  _ open _ sign as Deacon turned away from his cleaning job, leaning up against the counter. He crossed his arms and kept his eyes on Jennifer, who danced a little to the beat before she turned around.

“What?” she asked, eyeing him, eyeing her. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s uh...I dunno, it’s a good song,” he nodded as she attempted to dance to it. “Not really danceable, though.”

“What did you say? If you don’t care how stupid you look, you dance to anything.”

“Sure.” He shook his head, hiding a bit of a laugh and walking back behind the bar.

Jennifer just rolled her eyes and danced a little as Cece and Deacon counted through the cash tips and distributed the money between them before the former left. Once she was gone, Jennifer went and hopped up on the stool opposite where Deacon was standing.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said after a beat. He reached under the bar and then lifted out something regantular, wrapped in white paper with colorful swirls that was so very Jennifer, she was actually really touched by the effort.

“What for?” she asked, feeling it in her hands, trying to figure out what it was. 

“June 14th. It’s your birthday, right?”

She hesitated and then looked at him, head tilted. “I...I don’t celebrate my birthday. But I mean, thank you.”

“Oh...well, sorry. I saw it online somewhere.” He shrugged it off from being some kind of grand gesture.

A lot of her life  _ was _ posted around for anyone to see, so it wasn’t that surprising to her. “I swear I’m not a total asshole. I mean it. Thank you.”

“You don’t even know what it is. And it’s not...that kind of gift.”

Jennifer let her eyes flicker down to the paper and then she opened it, sliding her nail along the tape and pulling it open. Inside was a nearly empty picture frame. Jennifer hoped she kept the mild confusion off her face as she twisted it around so Deacon could see. “This is a twenty dollar bill,” she said slowly.

He leaned against the counter, looking briefly nervous. “Yeah...it’s not  _ the first _ money we made, because hello credit cards, but it’s the first bill I got handed on opening night.”

He was waiting for something. Jennifer was a little bit set back from the main population, she wouldn’t deny it. She was rich and she was smart and her family sheltered her to a point of nearly abuse. But she did watch a lot of television, so after a heart-pounding three seconds, she figured it out.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning the frame around and running her fingernail along the glass, eying the money like it was some kind of prize. “This is...Deacon, this is a big deal.”

“Yeah,” he said, avoiding eye contact by scrubbing an invisible stain on the wood in front of him.

“You shouldn’t give this to me. I didn’t do anything.” She set it down gently. “I’m for sure majorly touched, but you…” She scraped through her memories for the right decision. “You should hang it on the wall here. I can still see it when I come in, and it’s...I didn’t do anything,” she added, feeling a little fuzzy. She wasn’t sure if it was just because of her one drink hours earlier finally settling in now that she was tired, or if it had to do with the sentimental gift in front of her. 

No one gave Jennifer sentimental gifts. Gifts from her father were sterile. Her girl friends tended to just give her massage and spa day passes or they’d take her out without giving her anything material. She didn’t  _ mind _ , but this was new and made her stomach squirm.

“It was supposed to be a thank you gesture,” Deacon said, finally looking at her again. “And then I realized it was your birthday so…”

“So it’s not really a birthday gift,” she said. She looked back down, curling her fingers along the fake-wood sides. 

“I love it,” she said with a grin.

His half-cocked smile made her heart flip and she glanced about the walls, finding a barren place above the very corner stool where she usually sat. “You should put it up there,” she pointed.

“Right now?”

It was late. She should be getting a ride back but… “Right now.”

He disappeared under the counter and came back with a small leather tool bag, producing a hammer and a lengthy nail. “C’mon,” he motioned for her to follow him over.

“I don’t think I’m qualified to use this,” she said hesitantly as he put the hammer in her hand.

“You’ll be fine.”

She wasn’t  _ short _ \--she was nearly the average height for women--but he was taller and so was the wall. She had to climb onto the stool on her knees, wobbling a little. Deacon’s hands settled on her hips to steady her.

“Just don’t split the wood,” he cautioned as she found the spot for the nail.

“Now you tell me,” she muttered. The walls were hard wood as opposed to flimsy wood panelling, something she’d insisted they use during their meeting to sign their unconventional contract. Taking a deep breath, she set the nail in place and adjusted the hammer in her hand.

“You don’t have to go crazy, tap it close to the head and let it do its thing.” 

Jennifer shook her head at the thought that his words sounded weirdly suggestive, and did as she was instructed. She didn’t split the expensive wood, and she even got the angle right to hang the picture frame off of.

“Looks good,” Deacon said, helping her down without a word, which resulted in her hovering there, boxed in by his arms for an elongated second before he let her free and they stepped back to look.

“It looks right...and like you’ve got a proper business now,” she added, nudging him with her elbow.

“Thanks.” She wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for. Maybe for making his dream a reality, for digging him out of the deep hole he could have put himself and Eli into if he hadn’t had her financial support. Maybe for helping him put up a picture frame. It didn’t really matter.

oOo

Eli’s eighteenth birthday was in September. Jennifer was starting to not mind birthdays so much, maybe because she saw how much it could change someone’s demeanor and their life. While he wasn’t legally allowed to drink in the state, they still had a party at the bar. The business was closed after happy hour, pizzas were ordered, and the staff all came, along with a handful of Eli’s friends, and Jennifer too.

She even brought a present for him.

“Hey, aren’t you that lady who made a unicorn?” someone asked, not too long into the festivities.

Jennifer paused, pizza half to her mouth, and nodded. “That’s me. An ethical nightmare, but wasn’t it cool as hell?”

“Wild,” they replied and the agreement moved like a murmured wave through the people crowded around the pushed-together tables. 

Jennifer nodded along, shoveling food into her mouth so she didn’t have to speak. She wasn’t embarrassed about her choices; in fact she loved it still, to this day, and the creature was living a grand life on a huge hundred and twenty-three acre farm in Kansas so she had no regrets. But she didn’t want to dwell in it because now? Now she didn’t know what her purpose was. She’d reached her lifelong goal far too early and now she was just another fish in the sea.

When it came time for presents, Jennifer handed over hers. It was a package of ten handcrafted bandanas in green with a small repeating logo of the bar on them since Eli was almost always wearing cheap paisley ones from probably a dollar store.

Jennifer wasn’t great at gifts, but Eli smiled and shook one out and gave her a hug before tying it on and showing it off. It made her feel a little less lonely, a little less like an outsider. Square peg, round hole, trying to force herself into this world where she wasn’t sure she belonged.

She didn’t stay much longer, making valid excuses to leave and slipping outside quickly. The night air was city air, but it was freer than the bar. She paused on the sidewalk a few feet away from the door, tilting her head back and breathing deeply despite the pollution.

“You okay there?”

Deacon’s voice startled her and she dropped her phone.

“Shit,” she muttered, crouching down to pick it up. Luckily it hadn’t broken the screen.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Jennifer said, turning to face him.

“Right well uh...thanks for coming. I know birthdays aren’t your thing.”

“I’m starting to not hate them entirely.”

“Cool. Well. Do you have a ride? Should I wait with you?”

“I’ve got one,” she waved her phone. “But you can stay if you’d like.”

He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets and moving to stand next to her at the curb.

“I’m going away for a while,” Jennifer said, voice wavering. She’d been putting off telling him for...some reason. Her dreams, the steady stream of what to do when was telling her she needed to go somewhere, to do something, to help someone. She knew it was important, because it was  _ Cole _ and he was important. Probably the most important of them all.

“Oh. Okay.”

“I just mean, I won’t be coming in for a bit. I’m going down to Florida, and then I have some traveling after that. I have to meet some people about my unicorn.” She flashed him a grin and he chuckled. “I didn’t want to just up and disappear without saying anything.”

“Right. Thanks for that. I probably would have worried,” he added, words quiet and bleeding together as he talked fast and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” She nudged his elbow with her own. “But I appreciate your concern, however unnecessary. Besides, you bet your bottom dollar I am sending you photos of the beach and also of Rainbow Sparkles.”

“You really named your unicorn Rainbow Sparkles?” His eyebrows had marched up his forehead in disbelief.

“What else was I supposed to call her? Mary?” She laughed, snorted, cleared her throat and then her car pulled up. She stepped toward it, opening the door and then paused, turning back to him. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, so she just waved her hand and said, “Goodnight, Deacon.”

oOo

It took a few days for Deacon to hear from Jennifer. It came in the form of a photo without a caption: a sunset on a beach. It looked a hell of a lot nicer than New York. Deacon had never actually done any traveling before, and he didn’t mind the cold of the northeast, but he always wondered what a nice warm beach would feel like.

He replied with a few words.

Over the next week she sent him a few more photos of the beach: the sunset, the waves, a half-blurred selfie where she was sticking out her tongue which may or may not have been for him, but its appearance made him chuckle anyway. And lastly a photo of her and some guy, which he didn’t think was for him because it came with a caption of  _ Look who I found! _ and Deacon did not know who that was. He decided to ignore it and focused on getting Eli started at the bar.

His brother had started the week long bartending certificate class the day after he turned eighteen. The week went by fast and then it was the matter of making sure Eli actually knew what he was doing behind the bar.

Two days after the last photo, Jennifer sent him another while he was on break from a shift, eating a rushed dinner in the back office. It was of her unicorn--one where it was running in the distance just like any other horse, and another selfie where it was mostly Jennifer with the eye and ear and bit of horn of the animal behind her.

Deacon shook his head, wondering what had possessed her to do such a thing, and in an act that went against everything he basically stood for, he sent her the unicorn emoji in response.

_ I should sue Apple for copyright to that _ , she replied.

_ Why? Don’t you have enough money already? _

_ I do. No, you’re right. Plus, then that would mean copywriting every instance of unicorn and I don’t want to be an asshole. I’ve got a real life unicorn, that should be enough. _

_ Yep _ .

_ I’m just happy that she’s stayed alive this long. I wasn’t sure, even after all the years I worked on the genetic makeup. She’s not a clone, but almost, and cloned animals don’t live very long. _

_ I did not know that. _

_ Anyway. How’s the bar going? _

_ Good. Eli’s working tonight. He’s doing ok. _

_ That’s great! _

Deacon finished off his meal and stared at his phone with its little floating dots denoting that Jennifer was typing. And still typing….Shaking his head, he grabbed his phone and sent off a quick:  _ Yeah. I’m heading back to work. _ and waited a few moments before walking back into the bar, shoving his phone in his pocket.

A handful of nights later, on his night off, he’d gone to sleep early, leaving the bar in the hands of Eli, Max and Cece, and was in that deep, silent sleep when his phone rang. Startled awake but still half asleep, his first thought was that it was probably something wrong with the bar, and he almost didn’t answer. He let it ring a few times before he snaked a hand out from under his pillow and grabbed it, wincing at the light from the screen and accepting the call.

“Hello?” he mumbled into the receiver.

“Deacon?” It was not his brother’s voice. It took a few seconds for him to realize it was Jennifer. Her voice sounded different through the phone. “Shit, did I wake you up?”

“Um…” He rolled over onto his back and blinked up at the dark ceiling. “Yeah but it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot about the time difference.”

“What? Where are you?”

“Singapore. But it’s fine. I don’t think me calling you will charge your phone. I could always pay for it if it does.”

“What...are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, which was very unlike her. “I just...I’ve had a rough few days and I wanted to talk to someone.”

In his quiet apartment halfway around the world, he ran a hand over his face and then tucked his arm behind his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t you have a whole group of friends you could have called?”

A pause. “Not really. I mean, I have some friends, but they...okay. If you want to go back to sleep, I’ll hang up. It’s okay, I’ll just raid the minibar instead. Four p.m. isn’t too early to start drinking, right?”

“No,” Deacon said before he could stop himself. “No, Jennifer, it’s fine. I’m awake now anyway. What happened?”

“Oh.” She sighed and shuffled around before continuing. “So I went to Florida to wait for Cole--”

“Who?”

“I sent you a photo of him. He’s a friend of mine and I was picking him up and bringing him to Binghamton to reunite with his future wife--”

It was a good thing that Deacon was sleepy because he was too tired to try to make sense of what she was saying.

“--and it was beautiful, it really was. They have this sort of fate-destiny thing going on where they’d been apart for...years, and then they were together again. And I’m really happy for them, I am. Like...super, extremely happy.”

“Uh-huh. You sound ecstatic about it.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, okay. So they’d been apart for a long time and I didn’t want to linger so I left and I had to check on Rainbow Sparkles before going to this scientist conference thing--”

“Is that what you’re doing in Singapore?”

“Yep. And I’m here, and I don’t speak Mandarin or any local dialects and yeah most people speak English and there are people from all around the globe but it feels very isolated. And I mean, I should be used to it. I’ve felt this way for like my entire life. My parents kept me secluded from anything for...lots of reasons which I’m sure my dad would gladly lay out for anyone who said he was a bad father to me.

“And my friends? They...they’re great, really, but they’re superficial in the sense that they don’t really know me. I guess it’s sort of my fault. I don’t really let anyone get to know me because that takes a certain level of trust that I don’t give out willingly. People who think they know me only see this tiny part of myself that I put out there for them to see. They look at me and they see that...or they look right through me and don’t give a fuck about me while plastering on smiles and saying nice things about me without meaning it.”

Deacon frowned up at the ceiling, not really sure where this was going, but letting her go on and on about it because it was obvious that she needed to get whatever this was off her chest. “Okay. And you called me because…?”

“We’re friends, Deacon.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And you’re just about the only person who I’m just me around. I don’t even  _ try _ , I just  _ am _ and it’s a nice break from the exhaustion of pretending. I can say things and you don’t try to correct me or tell me I’m wrong even though I know I’m right. It doesn’t make sense to most people and I know you don’t understand me half the time but I don’t care. It’s nice to not have to fight all the time for an ounce of attention that doesn’t involve my own degradation.”

“I don’t really--”

“You see me, I think. Even if you don’t realize it. Which I realize is a tall order since you’re basically a kid--”

“Hey--"

“But that’s okay. I think I’m okay with that, at least. And all I really want is to be seen by someone who doesn’t question my own memories. You don’t see through me, like I’m meaningless or something, and you also don’t just glance off the me that everyone else sees.” Jennifer finally seemed to take a breath, sighing heavily on her end of things. “I’m not making any sense am I?”

“Not really. But it’s three in the morning so I’m practically still asleep.”

She laughed ever so lightly. “I feel like I’m probably a horrible person. I saw my friends’ happiness and it sent me spiraling into some existential crisis.”

“I think that’s a normal human reaction.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm...it feels wrong, after knowing everything they went through.” Her breath hitched a little. “I went through a lot too.”

“Are you uh...gonna be okay?” Deacon asked after a minute.

“What? Oh...yeah, I think so. I just had a lot going on in my head and talking to myself isn’t as satisfying as having other voices in my head.”

Deacon frowned again, but didn’t bother asking.

“As long as you don’t mind being friends with me, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Is that some sort of ultimatum? I’m responsible for whatever bad decisions you make after this if I don’t say we’re friends?”

“No, these are not playground rules. I take friendship very seriously. And I know that I’m eleven years, two months and eleven days older than you--”

“How do you know that?”

“Background check,” she said flippantly. “And I know that’s probably weird and yeah I know I’m a very youthful thirty-something, but I’d understand if you didn’t want to be friends with someone who may turn into a weird cat lady. Or bag lady.”

“Did you get into the minibar before you called me?”

“No.”

“You’re making less sense than usual.”

“Ah. I’ll take that as my cue to hang up now. You should get some sleep.”

“I will. And I guess I am.”

“You are what?”

“Your friend. Whatever that means. I don’t have many.” He didn’t elaborate, having no liquid libations to loosen his tongue. He’d keep his childhood traumas close to his chest for a while longer. Unlike Jennifer, he couldn’t just spill stuff out like tipping a cup.

“Okay.” He could almost hear her smiling. “Okay. Goodnight, Deacon.”

“Night, Jennifer.”


	3. 2019 ((23::34))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer gets a visit from some friends and some demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof this kind of created itself, but I'm putting poor Jennifer through it. There will be a nice payoff though!
> 
>  **EDIT 2/13/21:** I've changed the title to reflect the song by The Outfield, which is pretty much now the theme song for this fic. It was formerly **blink and you miss it**.

She wasn't primary anymore. She was Jennifer Goines with her brain locked in. She was no longer special; time used her as a conduit and she saved Otter Eyes and that was it. Now she had to forge her own path. Her dreams began to be simple and fantastical with faces she knew in this lifetime. The other lives, the other Jennifers, turned quiet and rested way back in her mind, rarely brought to the surface. But she didn't mind. She listened to her gut feelings, sketched and dreamed and lived.

The  _ Brother’s Deacon _ bar became a sort of safe haven. She started showing up more; once a week at least, if she wasn’t doing some sort of conference or traveling for some other reason. The bar was booming, with no real worry that it would fall through, coming up on its one year anniversary with a profit margin. Something about it drew people in. Maybe it had to do with the spirit of the place. Jennifer often saw the bar in her apocalyptic type dreams, masquerading as a final oasis.

By the summer, they’d also added a kitchen so they could serve drinks and food and make it a more inviting experience. It meant more staff, and a bit more money, but Eli  _ was _ surprisingly good with business measures and they had enough to cover the renovations and the loss of profit when they were closed for two weeks to get it done.

Jennifer did her best to give Cole and Cassie space for them to figure out what they were going to do, how things were going to work...but Jennifer knew them as her friends, a sort of metaphorical string tying them all together within the framework of time and alternate timestreams, and she couldn’t let them go. 

She invited them to the city with infinite possibilities including a pop into the Emerson and to see the Big Apple as it once was. She didn’t mention Deacon, not yet, not until she’d spent time with the two of them to see how Cole’s memories were holding up.

Like her, he was the only one to truly remember everything they’d gone through. Everyone else maybe had the vague notion, a tickling in the back of their mind when they saw or heard something to trigger the imprint of time in their brains, but for the most part, they didn’t know a thing.

Jennifer’s memory of things was growing less and less, but she still  _ knew _ stuff. Cole’s memory also seemed to be going through the same erosion, but at least the three of them were safe. They knew each other well enough that not even erasing time could stop their connection.

“I’m not going to the Emerson again,” Cassie said with a sigh on their third night in the city. They were all gathering in the foyer of Jennifer’s city apartment, dressed up and ready to go.

Jennifer finished pulling her hair out from under her denim jacket and glanced at Cole. “I um...I know another place. It has food now too. And a much,  _ much _ better atmosphere. A little less sad.”

“And what place is this?” Cole asked, already suspicious.

“It’s uh...called  _ Brother’s Deacon _ ,” she squeaked out, pushing past them to get her bag and head to the door.

Cole gaped. “Wait... _ Deacon _ ? As in...mass murderer Deacon?”

“Excuse me?” Cassie shot in. Her memory was a little more intact than anyone else’s but only to the effect of having fond feelings toward the people she knew from the 2040’s. She had no actual memories. “Mass murderer?”

“He’s not a mass murderer  _ now _ ,” Jennifer explained, leaning back against the door. “He’s twenty three years old. His brother is alive. He runs a bar.” Her eyes slid to Cassie’s. “He’s the Deacon you would have actually liked back in the future.”

Cassie frowned.

Cole shook his head. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“No. What rules? I can’t meet a person in this enormous city by chance?”

“Was it by chance?”

Jennifer started to walk out.

“Jennifer!  _ Was _ it by chance?”

“A little!” she called out, walking down the steps and hearing them follow. “And the timeline hasn’t collapsed yet. You said you were owed by time. Don’t you think I was too?”

She wondered if Cole was thinking of all the things that had happened to her. All the things she’d done by choice and by force. It would not make a fun bedtime story.

Without too much more fuss, they got into a car and headed to the bar. It was a Sunday so it wasn’t the height of the weekend, which meant that they could hear each other over the music and chatter. At first glance she didn’t see either brother, though she scanned the crowd thoroughly as the three of them grabbed a booth for themselves. 

“Damn, this place is actually nice,” James said as he slung his arm along the back of the booth and looked around.

“You think I’d invest in a piece of shit establishment?” Jennifer scoffed. “I knew. I’d seen this before so I knew it would work.”

“It’s a really nice place,” Cassie agreed. “I wish...I wish I knew as much as the both of you. Having all these vague feelings is driving me nuts.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Jennifer assured her. 

Cole agreed. He squeezed his arm around Cassie’s shoulders and placed a kiss on her temple. 

Jennifer didn’t feel that crazy mad lingering of disappointment and loneliness that she had back when Cole arrived on the Keys and Jennifer took him to Cassie. She was now one hundred percent genuinely happy for them. “I’ll go get some drinks. Did you want to get food too? The menu is that thing there,” she said, getting to her feet and pointing at the small laminated half-sheet menu stuck into the napkin holder.

Jennifer didn’t stop to ask what they wanted. She knew that there was no wine here, and decided on beers for the three of them was enough. She walked up to the counter, hoping to see Deacon but it wasn’t him tending bar. It was someone she didn’t recognize, but he saw her and smiled and walked over.

“Hi, what can I get you?” he said. He was cute, she guessed, with dark skin and black hair shaved close to his scalp. He reminded her briefly of someone but she didn’t grasp the memory fast enough and it slipped away.

“Three beers please, whatever’s the best on tap.” She smiled, and waited, and he came over with the three pints and gave her a price. “Oh... _ oh _ , I don’t pay to drink here.”

“Uh…” His eyes shifted. “That’s usually how goods and services work. You order something and pay for it.”

“Not here. I mean, sure I would happily do it but it would kind of break a contract. Surely you’ve been told of this?”

He looked at her like she’d grown an extra head just as Eli came around and clapped him on the shoulder. “What’s going on here? Everything good?”

“Eli, please tell him that I don’t pay to drink here,” Jennifer said.

Eli squeezed the other man’s shoulder. “She doesn’t pay to drink here. Though usually you only have one drink.”

“I have friends with me. Their two drinks can go with whatever food they order. Okay?” She grabbed the three glasses in her hands.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Eli flashed her a smile.

She made it to the booth without any spills, setting down the drinks. Cole and Cassie had their heads leaned in close and were talking. It looked serious. “Here we go,” she said, putting them down and getting back into her side of the booth. “Only the finest for Otter Eyes and Cassie.”

Cassie gave her a tired but kind smile. “I’m...actually not drinking much lately.”

Jennifer sipped and pondered the last few days with the two of them and watched James chug down half his drink before seemingly remembering that he was now in a world he could savour and slowed down.

“I’m gonna go pick a song,” Cassie said a few seconds later, sliding out of the booth. 

Jennifer watched her go and then snapped her attention to Cole. “Is she pregnant?”

His hesitation told her everything.

“Jesus, you guys need to learn what birth control is. We have  _ a lot _ of it here.”

Cole sighed and rubbed his forehead. “We’re not telling anyone. We don’t...we don’t know what’s going to happen and my bad feelings are practically bleeding everywhere and Cassie’s picked up on it and it’s just…”

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to explain. I won’t make a big deal about it,” Jennifer promised.

“A big deal about what?” The voice was new and Jennifer turned to it with a warmth not unlike her past selves. Deacon stood there in his usual jeans and henley attire.

“Deacon,” she said cheerfully. “This is my friend Cole.”

Deacon tilted his head with a little furrow of his brow but then offered a hand. Cole scooted forward to shake it. “I recognize you.”

“Do you?” James asked.

“I sent him a selfie when I went down to Florida to get you,” Jennifer explained as the song switched over and Cassie returned. The blonde surveyed the scene quickly as she walked over. “And this is Cassie. Cassie, Deacon.”

“Hi,” she said, with nothing but the tiniest bit of  _ something _ behind her eyes probably trying to figure out the world in which this young man was a mass murderer. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Deacon said, stepping aside so she could get into the booth. “Right. So, food anyone? I’ll run it back for you.”

Jennifer was almost too distracted to even think about food, but she ordered mozzarella sticks and propped her chin in her hands as Deacon disappeared through the throng, leaving them at their table.

“Wow,” Cole said after a beat.

“Yeah.”

“He’s...not what I expected.”

“Yup. Like I said...he’s not who he used to be and I hope he never ends up that way. He doesn’t deserve it. None of us do.”

Cole frowned. “But why...him?”

Jennifer’s brow furrowed in irritation. “Because...because when you were sneaking around trying to protect Athan and yourselves from Jonsey’s wrath, he was the one who stayed behind. He talked to me, he protec--”

“He killed you. And he threw you in a cage.”

“He did a lot worse to you and you can’t say you weren't happy to see him at our last stand on Titan.” Jennifer balled her hands into fists and leaned over the table. “You were going to save him after he died. And I know you weren't doing that just for me.” Her eyes flickered to Cassie, who looked pale and ready to put out any metaphorical fires that sprang up at the table.

James sniffed and scratched his jaw. “Fine.”

“And it wasn't like you were here for me. You were here for her.” Jennifer’s expression softened and she sat back. “If Cassie can have the love of her life returned to her, I can get my friend back.”

Cole and Jennifer held each other's gazes.

“You’re right,” he finally seceded . “Sorry.”

“Don't be. It’s okay, Otter Eyes.”

Cassie shook her head. “I can't believe you two are fighting over things that never happened.”

“They happened,” Jennifer shrugged. “Just not in this reality.”

Cole rolled his eyes. “Are there realities now? What about the forward moving snake?”

“You think there’s just  _ one _ snake?” Jennifer tilted her head and quiet moments passed at their table before Deacon himself brought over armsful of plates.

“Here you go,” Deacon said, setting the few plates of appetizer foods onto the table.

Jennifer smiled at him. “Thank you for the attentive, first class service.”

“Yeah,” Deacon scoffed. “Right. If you need anything, I’ll be at the bar tonight.”

Both Cole and Cassie gave a hesitated “Thanks” at his retreating back and quickly dug into the warm food to avoid any more conversation.

oOo

Jennifer knocked on the front door of  _ Brother’s Deacon _ , half an hour before they officially opened at noon. They opened earlier now that they served food, and she only hoped that she wasn’t  _ too _ early.

She had to admit that she looked kind of a mess, her hair a wild nest, wearing some authentic 80’s mom jeans and a t-shirt that definitely had a stain on it that she hadn’t noticed until she was on the train. 

She should probably try to break out of the habit of running here every time she had a problem, but it was so much  _ easier _ . She could only tell her therapist so much, and the girls were good listeners to an extent and Jennifer had made it a personal goal to stay out of Cole and Cassie’s lives as much as she could after their visit a few months ago.

She felt like she’d been tossed into this hole with no way out. She kept trying to climb up the sides but she’d just fall back in, right back where she started.

Nothing was what she expected of her life at thirty-four. And while she was sure this was just a rough patch that people went through, rough patches for Jennifer were not something one could just wave their hand at and forget. They lingered, teasing out the worst parts of her and leaving her with broken nails, covered in dirt.

She could have called, or texted, or  _ anything  _ else but she was here, hammering on the door of a bar of all places, looking for a speck of kindness. This was the type of behavior that her father would never tolerate and her mother would have probably condemned.

Just when she was about to talk herself out of this, turn tail and walk somewhere else, the door pushed outward. Jennifer froze like a deer in headlights, clutching the strap of her bag and wondered just how unhinged she looked.

“Jennifer?” Deacon frowned and blinked into the mid-day sun. “What’re you doing here?”

“I...I need a drink,” she said, voice small. She didn’t feel like running away, but she could.

“It’s eleven-thirty.”

She nodded in agreement to the fact and stepped forward. He stepped aside and let her in. The bar felt different in the day, especially when no one else was there. It was almost as sad as when she’d first found this place in pieces.

“I’d ask if you’re okay,” Deacon said, following her to the bar and popping a lid off a beer bottle to set in front of her. “But if you’re drinking this early I’m guessing not.”

“No. Not really.” She settled down on the far side of the bar, near her  _ gift _ hanging on the wall. “I should have...I should have called or something. I know I can’t just turn up like this.  _ You _ didn’t sign up for this.”

“Didn’t I? I remember a three-am phone call where I sealed my fate as a friend of yours.”

Jennifer tried to look...better, like his jumpy, kind words were taken lightly and she could laugh it all off, but she wasn’t sure she managed. Covering up the fact, she took a drink and tried to clear her mind. But it was harder to do than she thought it would be.

“That’s the last time I take a morning nap,” she sighed, rubbing her fingertips against her eyelids. They were cool and a little damp from the brown glass bottle. “You’d think demons come out at night but they’re way more likely to play with your sensibilities in the light of day when you least expect it.”

“I’d have to agree with you on that one.” Deacon moved to the cash register, popping open the drawer.

“Have you ever been called a monster?” She didn’t care that it was too early to delve into deep seeded childhood trauma, but something like that didn’t give two shits if you were in the middle of the most important meeting of your life; it hit you when it hit you and that was all there was to it.

His posture stiffened and she knew she shouldn’t have asked.

She decided the best course of action was to plow on so he didn’t have to actually answer. “My mother did. Many times, like when I wouldn’t eat my peas or when I started crying in public when I got hurt or when she was trying to drown me.”

“Jesus Christ, Jennifer.” 

Her head jerked up from where it had fallen, her eyes unfocused, unseeing the grain of the bartop and in a blink, she saw his face clear as day, standing on the other side of the bar, right there, close enough to touch.

“Sorry,” she muttered, taking a long drink and shuddering. “It’s too early for this.”

“Yeah.” He frowned, hands clenched into fists. “Are you...okay? I mean, you can stay here when we open, or go into the back or…” He trailed off, looking  _ desperate _ ; desperate to help her, that mirror in his eyes of his own traumas that he didn’t talk about but that she knew, tingling the back of her mind.

“I called my therapist,” she said, waving the bottle around. She was lightweight but it still took more than a single beer to give her a buzz, which was unfortunate. “I’m...waiting.”

“Okay. How long is that gonna take?”

“I have to wait until two.”

He glanced around at the empty bar, forming some kind of plan. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. It’s slow until usually four, so just pick a booth and you can stay there, eat something for lunch...maybe not drink any more.”

She glared at him, hugging the nearly empty bottle to her chest. “You can’t cut me off.”

“I can actually, since I own the place.” He held out a hand and she narrowed her eyes at it but finished the drink and then handed it over. “Jennifer, I just don’t think it’d be super effective to go to see your therapist if you’re drunk.”

“What would you know about it? Have you ever been a therapist?”

“No, but that’s not the point.” The bottle disappeared behind the counter somewhere and he looked at her. He did  _ that thing _ where he saw her as she truly was, which at this point wasn’t totally flattering, but it beat pretending to be someone she wasn’t. 

“Okay, well what am I supposed to do for two hours?”

“Read a book.”

“I didn’t bring a book with me.” She waved around at her tiny bag and lack of any hiding spaces for something of that size.

“I have some. It’ll take your mind off things.”

_ Things _ . Right. She shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t press to know more; she knew that it was a respect of boundaries, but she also really wanted to lay it all out there. But, she told herself, that’s what the therapist was for.

With reluctance, Jennifer sat in the booth farthest from the door but closest to the bar. “Maybe no murder mysteries,” Jennifer told him as he came around the bar and took a key out of his pocket to unlock the employees only door.

He nodded and disappeared, returning a few minutes later with three books. He laid the stack in front of her. “Pick your poison. I have to do some stuff for opening.”

A lot could be said about a person and their reading habits. Jennifer could close her eyes and picture the books in Jones’s room. The Daughters rarely traveled with books; they were a weight that could be unhauled for guns, which were a lot better suited to the apocalypse. So she grabbed the first one her hand fell upon and opened it up to the middle without taking a look at the title.

Deacon hovered at the table before disappearing with a mutter and shake of his head. Jennifer absorbed the book, her mind whirling and creating all these lines and interwoven knots about characters she didn’t know.

A few patrons straggled in and she ate the food Deacon brought out to her and begrudgingly drank the water he kept refilling. By the time her two hours were up, she’d reached the end of the book, stopping before the last page. She looked up blearily. There were a few people eating and drinking, but it was still way quieter than it would be once happy hour hit.

Jennifer shoved her phone into her hoodie pocket and grabbed the books. She walked to the open side of the bar.

“I’m going now,” she said, feeling stilted and strange.

He turned and placed down the glasses he was wiping clean of water streaks. “Did you like it?” He nodded toward the book on the top of the pile.

She shrugged. “I didn’t read the last page. I don’t like endings unless they’re beginnings.” She shoved the books into his arms, feeling like a wild animal masquerading as a normal human woman. She didn’t want to be here, she wanted to squirrel herself away. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Deacon shifted the books under his arm and reached out for her shoulder before she could leave. He leaned down a little so her blood-shot, frantic eyes would fall on him. “Text me later, will you?”

“Worried?”

“Yeah,” he said honestly.

She grinned, looking a little manic and resisted the urge to do something like lick his hand. “Okay,” she agreed, spinning out of his grasp and out the door. 

oOo

Jennifer didn’t realize just how far she’d been slipping until Deacon texted. It was a simple  _ There’s a thing at the bar on Friday. You should come _ with the implications that it was New Year’s Eve. It wasn’t like Jennifer was dying to spend time with her father--she wasn’t--and the girls had all found significant others this year and were going to family parties.

She was alone, but she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts, her demons, with nothing but a handful of pills to keep her sane. But going to a party sounded bad too. At this rate, she was going to end up crying in her bathtub choking down ice cream as she relived her worst nightmare.

That didn’t seem like a good way to spend a holiday.

So she spent a few days working herself up to being able to shower, and curl her hair, and put on makeup, and find a nice dress. The dress was something that tingled a memory in the back of her mind, of an auction house and a sparkly pink diamond ring and a pair of blue eyes and a flashing gun, watching her back.

It was that vibrant 80’s blue, tight enough but not so much she couldn’t walk or run if she had to. It had off the shoulder straps and a bustline decorated in pink and white mottled roses. She looked ridiculous but at least she’d tried. Hopefully everyone would be drunk enough not to notice.

The air of a celebratory evening seeped out of the bar, the music and lights tinting the evening in life. Jennifer tugged a black jacket around her to ward off the cold and stepped around patches of snow on the sidewalk. At the door, she hesitated. She wasn’t sure this was such a good idea now that she was here.

Glancing down at her pale hand, she saw it, glitched and superimposed, with a similar hand, nails torn, blood dripping from mindless scraping of chalk against concrete.

The door opened, sending a blast of heat out into her face. She blinked, sucking in a breath.

“Jennifer?” It was Eli. He looked like he’d partaken in one or two illegal shots tonight. His smile was bright and it almost hurt. “What’re you doing out here?” He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside.

It was indeed a party. The music was going, the place was filled with familiar faces from around the bar. Eli took Jennifer’s jacket for her and disappeared. She walked, ghostlike with muted sound all around, until she made it to the bar. Cece and one of the newer guys were tending bar tonight. 

Cece smiled at Jennifer and gave her a beer in a glass. “You look nice!” Cece yelled over the music.

Jennifer flashed her an anxious smile. “Thanks,” she said, not sure if she was heard, before she sucked down half a glass, hoping it would calm her down. It didn’t.

Eli appeared at her elbow where she sat beneath the framed twenty dollar bill. “Hey, glad to see you made it!” he had to yell over the music, even though he was close.

Jennifer wasn’t glad to be here, but she faked it. “Yeah, well, Deacon asked so here I am!” She raised her glass and drank some more. “Are you two not working?”

Eli grinned. “Nope. We’re just here celebrating like everyone else.” He patted her shoulder and then disappeared.

Jennifer finished her drink and Cece gave her another. She knew she shouldn’t drink so much, but she didn’t have work and what else did you do at a New Year’s party? She’d sucked down her second beer before Deacon appeared. It was almost strange to see him on this side of the bar. 

His eyes were bright and glossy. He’d obviously been enjoying himself. “Jen, you made it!” He smiled and sat down opposite her, their knees touching.

She felt a tiny bit better, just seeing him. Which was pathetic, really. “Happy New Year,” she yelled over the music.

“Not yet!” He pointed at the TV, which was playing the Town Square’s big events. It wasn’t quite midnight yet. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

Jennifer frowned. “I did. I texted you.”

He shrugged, and her chest felt tight. The past week had been a whirlwind blur. Maybe she’d only dreamed that she texted him back.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he was pulled away, literally, by someone grabbing his arm and yanking him into the growing masses. It felt like this was some kind of college party, but she knew he wasn’t in college. Maybe he had this many friends.

Jennifer accepted the flute of champagne that was offered. They started going through the room as the final ten minutes of the year crept onward. She’d have this one last drink, a final toast to 2019 and be done with the night.

The smart part of her brain, cocooned away and functioning better than the rest, knew what she had to do. Her chest started to ache as she took a preemptive sip of the light, bubbly drink. She liked this place a lot. It had been inevitable, she knew, but the fact that she had a tiny bit of a stake in the matter made it so much more special.

She twisted around in her seat and smiled softly up at the frame there, the memory of receiving the gift and being gently coerced into hanging it filtered through her hazy mind. The smile bubbled into a short laugh and she took another small sip as she turned back around.

There were enough people in the bar that she shouldn’t have seen it. She wished she didn’t. The flash of blonde hair and a low-cut top. A manicured hand curling around Deacon’s neck and puckered lips kissing his jaw, the corner of his mouth.

Color smeared across her vision, like it was coming in and out of focus, like she was looking through an Instagram filter. She saw green.

Jennifer didn’t like green. She liked yellow; yellow held promise, while green made her want to do uncalled for things. She squeezed the glass and was vaguely surprised when it shattered in her hand. The sound was like a pin dropping in a quiet room; everyone close seemed to turn toward her, but no one came to help as she gaped at the glass and rivulets of red forming on her palm.

“Hey, hey,  _ Jennifer _ .” Deacon was there, grabbing her hand palm up, a splash of worry across his face. “Shit,” he muttered. “Come with me.”

Jennifer did, getting off the stool, nearly slipping on a shard of glass on the floor. Someone else was coming over with a brush and bin to clean it up. Deacon dragged her through the staff door and down the hall to a private bathroom. 

“Stay here,” he said, squeezing her shoulders and then leaving. He was gone for a few minutes and finally returned, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. He crouched down and pulled a hefty first aid kit out from under the sink. “Rinse your hand,” he said, prying it open.

A pout found the way to her face, but she ran cold water over her bleeding hand. “Sorry,” she said after a beat. “I didn’t mean to ruin your party.”

“You didn’t,” he said, gently grabbing her wet hand. His head was bent down as he lifted her hand to the light and grasped a pair of tweezers.

Jennifer scoffed. “I did. I got glass everywhere, and I pulled you away from all your friends.” She couldn’t force out any more specifics. She could have said  _ sorry to pull you away from your skanky friend _ but that felt petty.

“I pulled myself away.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she grumbled, watching as he dropped a small shard of glass onto the counter. His hands were steady and surprisingly deft. He could have probably been some kind of doctor if he’d wanted to.

Deacon sighed, his eyes shifting to meet her gaze briefly. “I’m not a huge fan of parties.”

“Then why did you buy a bar? And why did you invite me?”

“I have no idea.” He shook his head and went back to work. “And because you are actually my friend, Jennifer.”

She waited as he pulled out another tiny piece of glass. She should probably go to the emergency room to get properly treated, but there was something comforting about Deacon’s hands. And his attention. “I really messed you up, huh?”

“Uh, no. Not even close.” He spread her fingers out and tilted her hand this way and that way toward the light. “Dad did enough of that before we ever met.”

“I know,” she said, even though she didn’t. Not really. Not this Jennifer. She slipped her non-bloody hand around his wrist, stopping his minor surgery. “I meant...a few months ago, back when I had a...bad day and ended up here.”

Deacon brushed his fingers over her splayed palm, sending a chill down to Jennifer’s toes. “You want to know why I don’t have many friends? Because people are shit. They’re bad stuff covered up by some good stuff and they’re more likely to turn on you than help you out. And they leave, whether they want to or not.”

Jennifer frowned, dropping her hand and tucking it under her elbow. “You should see someone about that mentality.”

He scoffed, found another small shard of glass and then set aside the tweezers.

“I mean it.”

“I know you mean it.” He brought her hand down under the tap again, running his fingers over her torn flesh. “I think I got all the glass out.”

“I won’t leave,” Jennifer said, looking up at him.

He twisted to look down at her. “What?”

“I mean, I’m sure I will technically but that’s what texting is for. And I’ll send you selfies in case you forget how stunning I look.”

“Never,” he chuckled and then grabbed a clean paper towel to dab her hand. “Can you make a fist?”

She did. There was no telltale sign of glass slivers left. “Thank you, Deacon.”

He looked down at her in a way that was...curious. She couldn’t place it, and it was probably because she’d never been around him when he was so obviously drunk--yet his hands were still steady. Guess that was a trait that never went away.

They stood that way, in the silence, as a deafening cheer assaulted them through multiple doors and hallways. The new year had begun.

The corner of Deacon’s mouth twitched, like he was going to say or do something. Jennifer took her aching hand back from his warm grasp.

“I...I’m leaving.”

“Right now?”

“No. I mean...yeah, probably. But I mean…” She sighed and took a deep breath. “I know I just said I wasn’t going to leave but I’m...I’m not right.”

“You’re making less sense than usual.”

“I know. I  _ know _ !” She gritted her teeth and then rapt her knuckles against her temple. “I’m not right  _ here _ . Something happened and I need to get away and figure it out.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I need to be somewhere quiet and empty.” It hurt to say, even though she knew that she’d be back. This city was her home. This bar meant a lot to her.  _ He _ meant a lot to her. “I can’t keep showing up here completely fucked and hope a beer and a smile from you will fix it.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very good fix.”

“It’s been okay.” She smiled a tiny bit and tapped his boot with her foot. “I promise I’ll be back. I just need some time. So I can be...a better friend. You deserve a good friend over a crazy person.”

“You’re not…” He shook his head and gently took her shoulders in his hands. “You’re not crazy.”

His comfort was palpable, reminding her of another time, far far away of him reassuring her that she wasn’t going to be tossed into a cell and left to rot. He was only half-correct, but that was beside the point.

Jennifer tilted forward and kissed his cheek--the one not being mauled by that other woman minutes before--and settled back on her heels. “Happy New Year, Deacon.”

“Do you need a ride?” His voice followed her as she stepped into the hall.

“No. I’m okay.” She gave him a small smile over her shoulder before they joined the rest of the bar. It was so loud it almost hurt. Jennifer found Eli, got her jacket and phone and hovered by the front door as the music and libations continued to flow.

She told herself not to look too hard, and instead focused on the reflection of the neon in the window. It wasn’t healthy of her, nor fair to Deacon, that she was so dependent on him. She needed to get her shit back in order, face her demons, wash away the green, embrace the light…

And if she looked a little too hard tonight, she may never be able to pull herself away. If she squeezed her hand hard enough, the pain distracted her enough to leave.


	4. 2020 ((24:35))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer's gone for six months and her return invites a whirlwind of emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been the chapter I've been MOST looking forward to writing. I hope you like it!

It was just past midnight when Deacon’s phone vibrated, jerking him away from the light sleep he’d fallen into. He half got out of bed as he fumbled to find the phone. Jennifer’s face filled the screen from a selfie she’d taken and snuck into her contact.

He shot to his feet and out of his room before he answered. “Hello?” he said, pulling his door shut and walking quietly down the hall to the living room.

“Deacon! Happy birthday!”

“It’s past midnight, so technically it’s the fourth,” he said, sitting down on the worn out couch.

“Aw shit,” Jennifer grumbled. “It’s only nine here. Did you work tonight?”

“Uh...yeah, yeah, but I got off early.” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay, so if you haven’t gone to sleep then technically it’s still your birthday.”

“Sure. This is what, three birthdays in a row now? I thought you didn’t  _ believe _ in them.”

“I’m beginning to find their merit.”

“Yeah? Surprise, surprise, I guess leopards can change their spots.”

Jennifer did that thing where she laughed and snorted at the same time. Deacon’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it fucking adorable.

“Tigers and stripes,” she replied before falling briefly quiet.

“So how are you doin’?” Deacon asked finally. She’d left the New Years Eve party and he hadn’t seen her since. Sure, she texted and called and occasionally would send a video of herself narrating something--like Snoop Dog narrating those wildlife clips--but she hadn’t been to her stool in the bar in months. He ventured to think this is what long distance dating would be like.

Were long distance friendships even a thing, or was that just straight up friendship? He didn’t know, nor did he put much thought into it. He wasn’t sure what his feelings about Jennifer could be classified as; friends seemed too small, though he’d never admit it.

“I’m okay,” she replied with a sigh. “Really...I’m getting better. I like traveling where I want to. It’s nothing like being in four padded walls and a jacket for heteros.”

Deacon slumped down and rested his head on the back of the couch.  _ Fuck, _ he missed her. “You…” He tried to say something like he’d never let anyone throw her into a padded room, but what kind of macho, possessive bullshit did that sound like? “Any idea when you’ll be back?”

“Um…” There was the sound of movement in the background, maybe fabric, maybe not. Deacon hoped it wasn’t someone else; let it be a dog, or a stray raccoon she took in, or  _ something _ . “I’m not sure. Maybe in the summer. I like being in the middle of nowhere. Oh! I have a video to send you.”

“If it’s you singing happy birthday, I don’t think I want it.” He was a big fat liar, but she probably knew that.

“It’s not! I found the Octopus Tree.”

“Do I want to know what that is?”

“It’s a very old tree. It’s shaped like an octopus. Use your imagination.” Her voice got farther away at the end. She must be trying to find the video on her phone.

Movement out of the corner of his eye made him sit up and turn. Willa was peeking around the corner, looking a little confused. She’d been coming to the bar for a few months now, and Deacon  _ knew _ that she was a friend of Jennifer’s and that made this a shitty idea but he couldn’t help himself. She was fun, which was really the only thing Deacon could handle right now, what with the bar going so well and Eli freaking out about his future, not to mention his mom...and with Jennifer gone, he thought it was a good idea. Or at least, a good distraction.

“I found it!” Jennifer’s voice was still far away. “Damn, I can’t send it while I’m on a call.”

“Hey, I’m…” Deacon got to his feet. Willa spun around and stretched her arms above her head, the hem of his shirt hitching up. He was sure the shirt smelled like sweat and spilled beer, but it looked damn good. “I’m glad you called, but I gotta go.”

“Uh-huh, it’s your birthday, you do what you want.”

“‘Night,” he said quickly, ending the call and heading back to his room.

Willa stood in the washed out light from a half-dead desk lamp. “What was that about?”

He almost said it was Jennifer. “Last minute birthday call.”

“Oh. Well, since we’re both awake again…”

Deacon was on her before she said much else, kissing her hard and sliding his hands against the bare skin under the worn fabric of the shirt.

oOo

The bar was busier than she’d seen it before. Trays of food were being cranked out from the kitchen, the jukebox was playing music and the televisions were boasting muted sports. Jennifer hesitated between the door and the bar counter.

It had been over six months since she’d been in New York. She’d gotten a plane out to see her unicorn first thing on January first, then she floated between cities with good therapists and rural towns with lots of space. Whatever the combination was, it did her wonders. Her mind felt clearer than it had in a long time.

Sure, that was probably thanks to the therapy that left her exhausted, but facing childhood trauma wasn’t easy. She took her time with it, and yeah, she’d spend the rest of her life coming to terms with why and how her mother tried to kill her as a kid, but now she had the ability to handle it, rather than letting it fester and bubble up like acid reflux.

She was better than that.

So naturally, her first stop back was  _ Brother’s Deacon _ . She hadn’t called first, wanting to surprise them. She missed this place. She missed the brothers. Deacon was the most anti-selfie Gen Z Jennifer had ever met so she’d gone all this time without seeing him. She was itching to do it now.

There was literally no reason why she pulled a little black dress and nice wedge heels from the back of her closet for tonight. No reason at all except maybe to show off the mild tan she’d gotten and also the nice toned legs she got from hoofing it most places. But that was all, clearly.

She wanted to go to the jukebox, but she was also second guessing her dress choice; even though it was hotter than hell outside and almost as hot inside, leaving her thankful for the short skirt.

Eli stepped out from behind the bar, looking in his element, and did a double-take when he saw her. “Jennifer?” he said as he stepped closer. 

She blasted him with a bright smile. “Hi!”

“Wow...you uh….you look really good.”

“Thanks.” She resisted the urge to tug down her skirt. She never wore clothes like this, but this dress was wasting away in her closet so  _ why not _ ?

His hands went up in a small gesture of offer-and-question and Jennifer grinned wider and gave him a hug.

“I didn’t know you were coming back,” he said.

“I wanted to surprise you. And Deacon.” She did her best not to peer further into the bar to see if she could find him.

Eli shifted on his feet. “Um...right well Deacon’s not here. It’s his night off.”

Her face must have shown disappointment because he fished his phone out of his pocket and waved it. “I could text him that you’re here.”

She waved a hand. “No, it’s fine! I’m just going to get a drink.”

She started to step by him.

“No friends with you tonight?”

She thought it was a weird thing to ask, but answered with a shrug: “No. Not tonight.”

She made her way to the bar, glancing affectionately at the framed twenty dollar bill on the wall before she leaned against the bar, eyes on the bartender. It was Max.

“Hey!” she yelled over the music, leaning over the bar.

Max met her eyes, tilted her head and then smiled. “Well I’ll be damned. I thought you were never coming back! And lookin’ hot to boot.”

Jennifer liked Max. The younger woman was barely old enough to tend bar, but she put in the hard work and seemed to like it. And she was potentially sweet on Eli, but Jennifer had never pried. “You think you can leave this place? It gets its claws in you and never lets you go.”

Max chuckled. “Good to know that this is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life.” She didn’t sound sad about it. “Drink?”

She wasn’t really one to drink much before  _ Brothers Deacon _ , and she hadn’t drank at all during her six month, three week and one day long self-discovery trip. Her tolerance was probably gonna be less than usual. Screw it. “Drink please!” 

Jennifer sat on  _ her _ stool with her first drink. It had been a while since she’d been around so many people, but for once it didn’t make her feel jumpy. She enjoyed the heat and the feeling of  _ alive _ ness in the building. 

With her second beer in hand, she made her way through the crowds to the jukebox, her fingers selecting  _ Are You Gonna Go My Way _ without much of a thought. She was still half-dancing to the guitar riffs when Max, on her way with a tray of drinks to a booth, elbowed Jennifer and then nodded toward the door.

“Well, well, look who’s here.”

Jennifer followed Max’s gaze to the door. Between a few bobbing shoulders, she was able to look through the crowd. Deacon was there. Her stomach flipped and her heart felt fluttery and light, which didn’t happen to her often.

His name leaving her lips was lost to the music. Before she fully registered the smile and soft warmth that blossomed behind his eyes, she had somehow flung herself through the room and right into him, hitting him hard.

Jennifer squeezed her arms around him. Deacon hand ran over her hair and he held her just as tightly. Something like a last stand flickered across the back of her eyelids like a movie, of a time five hundred years before. She gave him one last squeeze and then stepped back.

“Why weren’t you here?” She lightly punched his arm. “I was going to surprise you!”

“I am surprised,” he said, a smile on his face.

“Wait.” A frown formed and she brushed her fingers gently against his face, beneath where a split cheek and yellowing bruise sat over his cheekbone. “What’s this?”

“Bar fight.” One of his arms was still trying to hang onto her, his fingers pressed against her ribs. 

Jennifer arched an eyebrow. “Here?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. It happens.”

Her frown deepened a little as she turned his face this way and that and finally relented. “I guess it can’t be helped. Maybe I shouldn’t leave again for so long.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

Was her chest tight or was she just imagining it? She turned her frown upside down, smiling up at him. “We have a lot to catch up on.” She took a step back and caught his hand in her own.

He noticed her outfit then, eyes sweeping from smokey eye to painted toes and everywhere in between. “You dressed up.”

“It’s been known to happen. And I know I look nice. Everyone’s been telling me.” She smiled slyly, turning on her heel to walk to the bar. He followed obediently, their fingers lightly laced together.

Jennifer leaned against the edge of the bar and he stepped up right behind her, a wall of heat. She shivered when he leaned down, his voice close to her ear.

“I think you look more than nice.”

If she was a cartoon, her head probably would have been spinning around, but since she was a real life human being, that didn’t happen. Her face flushed, she composed herself before spinning around, holding onto the edge of the counter to stay steady, the edge of it biting into her fingertips.

“Oh yeah? And what pick up line did you think to add onto that?” She held his gaze, a glint of mischievousness there that matched his own.

“No pickup line,” he said after a beat. “You look beautiful.”

He stepped aside the moment the words were out, missing the small smile that curled onto her face as he went behind the bar. He crouched down and returned a moment later with a six pack and took her hand again.

“Aren’t you gonna pay for that?” she teased, yelling over the music.

He flashed her a smile over his shoulder and dropped her hand to unlock the staff only door. She walked through and he followed, pulling the door closed. It cut off the eardrum ringing volume, softening it down to background noise. They’d be able to talk here.

The hallway was narrow, with the bathroom tucked under the stairs and the office through the door on the right. And up the stairs she knew was their storage room.

“C’mon then,” Deacon said, sitting on one of the stairs. He opened a bottle and held it out to her. “You’re the one who said we have a lot to catch up on.”

Jennifer took the drink and sat a bit higher than him. “I did say that.”

“How’s Rainbow Sparkles?” he asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

“Still alive. Very horny.” She smirked and took a drink. “You wanna tell me about that nice shiner you’ve got there?”

Deacon shrugged but laid out the scene of the fight. It wasn’t the first since she’d left. The bar was starting to get more popular and inviting all kinds of folks, some of which didn’t mesh well with others.

That bled into Jennifer chatting about the places she’d seen, expanding on the photos and videos she’d sent him. All the while, she was fighting with her tongue as the alcohol started getting to her. She finished her third beer and declined reaching for another, even as Deacon was drinking them down like water.

More and more time passed and Deacon’s posture slowly turned horizontal down the stairs, using his elbow to keep his torso somewhat upright. Now Jennifer was sitting closer to his shoulders.

The conversation lulled, though there wasn’t silence. The noise from the other side of the door was loud enough to fill any gaps. Jennifer wouldn’t mind silence actually. She sat back and let her eyes drift around the bare stairway.

“Hey,” Deacon said after a while of that, his hand reaching out but never touching her. It was enough. Her wandering gaze met his. “I missed you.”

Her heart felt melty like a sponge. “I’m sorry I left,” she replied, voice quiet, walking her fingers up his chest. “I hope the calls and everything made up for it. I thought maybe you’d be angry with me for leaving like that.”

“Angry?” He shifted a little more, the bottle dangling from his fingertips pressing against her bare leg. His free hand inched forward again. “Never. You told me you were leaving and why. It wasn’t like you just dropped me.”

She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “I couldn’t do that. Not to you.”

Emotions flashed behind his eyes: shock, wonder, something warm and tender. He didn’t even have to say anything.

“I missed you, too,” she added, thinking the words would be better served if he heard them.

Jennifer had his face in her hand and before she could think she leaned down and kissed him. There was a mere moment of pause before he kissed her back, his free hand brushing her bare knees before he cupped the back of her head in his hand and deepened the kiss. She felt as melty as her heart, her body tilting toward him. It was all fine, great,  _ amazing _ until she came crashing back into herself and pushed away and to her feet. 

“Oh...whoa,” she said as she caught herself on the railing. “That um…”

Her head was spinning a little, and she jumped a little but was thankful when she felt him standing by her, hands steadying her elbows. 

“Are you okay?” His concern shot through her like an arrow.

“Yeah.” She rubbed her forehead and stepped away from his touch. “Just...drunk I think. Wouldn’t you know?” She half smiled but it was pitiful. “I think I just need to go outside.”

“Wait…”

She fumbled with the doorknob.

“Wait, Jennifer.”

“I’m okay,” she said, finally getting it and stumbling into the bar. He followed, she was sure of it, but she bobbed and weaved her way to the door faster than he could.

The warm air wasn’t much of a relief. She called up her car on her fancy watch, knowing that the driver always parked in a nearby garage so they were close to pick her up. She kept walking down the sidewalk and around the corner. Deacon didn’t reach her fast enough before the sleek car pulled up and she climbed inside.

oOo

Three days later, Deacon flew into her office like some fired up pitbull, flushed in the face and shaking off the snaking hands of her security team.

Jennifer placed her hands flat on her desk and didn’t move. “You um…you could have called,” she said as the door was pulled shut. She watched as the security team hovered outside. For some reason it made her want to smile, but she thought that might have come off wrong so she forced her face to stay neutral.

“You were ignoring my texts. And calls,” he said in a huff.

“Fair point,” she muttered before pushing herself to her feet. This was unexpected. Sure, she  _ had _ been ignoring him, which was a pretty low blow after the things she’d said to him, but she hadn’t been able to even begin to  _ face _ what she’d done. She was so sure she’d known where this was going, this do-over they had, but it wasn’t going anywhere she thought it would.

“Why?” He was sweaty and his jeans and t-shirt clashed with the clean, crispness of her office. She liked that because she hated this office. It was so white and minimalistic. She’d kill for some clutter.

But that was neither here nor there. Her distraction at being interrupted at work had her mind reeling around like an anchor without a boat. Or was it the other way around?

Her eyes fluttered around the room and finally settled on his. He deserved that much. And what she saw there was genuine hurt, so stark and blatant on his face that it almost felt like a physical blow.

“See, this was the anger I was expecting the last time I left,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t work. “Okay. I’m...I’m sorry. Really.”

“You’re  _ sorry _ .” Deacon walked forward as far as he could. Her desk was a solid two and a half feet between them.

“Yes.” Her voice was small. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your messages. I’m sorry about everything.”

He fisted his hands and used them to lean against her desk; a stance that looked so familiar to her that she thought her ribs would crack with the ache of it. “About everything?”

He’d kissed her back. She hadn’t been drunk enough to forget any of that. But it hadn’t been her place to kiss him in the first damn place. She’d just been playing with his feelings of missing her. Right?

“Deacon…” She took a deep breath and a few steps around the side of the desk. “You’re probably one of--no, you  _ are _ my dearest friend, okay? I...I care about you. I don’t want to do anything to fuck that up.”

The tension in his body dispersed a little with her words and he straightened up after a few seconds of silent contemplating. “You care about me, huh?”

“Yes,” she said with earnest. “I figured you’d pick up on that by now.”

Deacon ran a hand over his face and through his hair. “So what’s that mean now?”

Jennifer took a small step toward him. “It means we’re friends. I don’t want to lose you.”

His brow furrowed, and she honestly couldn’t blame him. She was queen of mixed signals, but she was trying to be as transparent as she could.

Finally, he relented. “Yeah. I don’t want that either.”

“Okay.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “So...friends?”

The quiet hesitation spoke oceans, but she wasn’t ready to jump in yet. “Yeah, yeah, sure.” He gave her a poor imitation smile.

“Without no secrets,” she added, a little selfishly.

“No secrets,” he echoed, the feeling of a heavy stone settling in his stomach.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “So if you have something to tell me...”

He did. But he was sort of frozen to the spot because he didn’t want to go there. Good thing she decided to answer for him.

“Like, if you were sleeping with one of my friends for instance.”

_ Shitfuck _ . “Yeah, I--I would have told you, but it just...happened a few times and…”

“Yeah. Willa told me all about it. In detail. Over lunch. An hour ago.” Jennifer tried to keep her face neutral, maybe even smile a little. Because honestly, she wasn’t here, they were both adults, it was all fine. “Good for you. And for her apparently.” Her eyes darted around the room. 

“It didn’t mean anything,” he heard himself saying. Why? He didn’t know. It wasn’t the sort of thing a friend said to another friend, was it?

Jennifer’s smile widened and she shrugged. “It’s okay if it did.”

Just then, the door to her office opened and one of the receptionists on the floor stepped in. “Sorry to interrupt, Miss. Goines, but you have that meeting down with the Rollins group in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be there,” Jennifer told her and turned to Deacon. “That’s my cue. I’ll...I’ll see you, okay? That bar of yours is still my favorite place in the city.”

He smiled a little, for real this time, as she squeezed her hand around his forearm and then motioned for him to follow her toward the door. “Yeah,” he said, head spinning. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

Ten minutes later he was standing on the sidewalk in front of the Markridge building downtown. The next few days, weeks even, he felt like he was someone else, like he was having some freakishly long out-of-body experience.

It had taken just one kiss to completely fuck him up.

Women were one of the few things in his life that he could control and that had been enough up until now. He didn’t have to think about it, he saw something he liked and he took it. But now? Now he’d gotten an emotional connection with someone.

Besides his brother, Deacon didn’t let people get to know him. So this was a first. 

And Jennifer was wild and unlike anyone he’d met before. He still couldn’t peg her down nor did he know what she was to him, or how she felt or where she stood. He thought maybe he’d mistaken friendship and relationship but then she kissed him and it was all he could think about.

He felt like a bull busting through a china shop, like he couldn’t get out. He couldn't stop thinking about her lips and her hand on his face and everything he wanted to happen after that but didn’t. The sting of what she’d said in her office was still there, softened by the things she’d said, too. She cared about him, but not enough to... _ do something _ about it. Either because she didn’t think about him that way, or because she was afraid. He just didn’t know. And the not knowing lit a fire in him.

So he buried himself into something he did know instead: a pretty blonde with a nice ass and a wide smile. He tried to wash away the thought of Jennifer with what used to be familiar, the thing he usually liked. And sure he liked it just fine, but it wasn’t the same. He thought about calling up Willa again, but that was a bad idea. She reminded him of Jennifer, after all. That’s why he’d gotten close to her in the first place.

He was starting to think he was shit at this relationship thing, that he wasn’t a good person because he always managed to mangle shit.

He did his best to hide the swell of feelings inside whenever Jennifer came to the bar. She was still there, present and vibrant, sometimes he felt like he was standing next to the sun when she smiled at him. But she kept her new, usual distance. Was friendly as ever, but left him wanting, wondering, and fucking other people just to get her out of his head.

She’d really fucked him up and she’d barely laid a hand on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Gabi for giving me the “Deacon sleeps with Jennifer’s friends” idea after telling me to put _Fashionably Late_ onto my J/D playlist ;P
> 
> And yes, Jennifer's little black dress moment was inspired by Stevie Budd's little black dress moment in the s2 finale of Schitt's Creek ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me over on [tumblr](https://goinesjennifer.tumblr.com).


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